


basorexia

by chadpelle



Category: Mayhem (Band)
Genre: Corpse Paint, Drabble, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-24 04:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30066450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadpelle/pseuds/chadpelle
Summary: Øystein likes the mess that corpse paint produces.
Relationships: Euronymous | Øystein Aarseth/Dead | Per Yngve Ohlin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	basorexia

Øystein likes the mess that corpse paint produces.

The ashen smears where black merges with white are satisfying, especially when they are on Pelle's face as the two of them kiss. Black encircles his mouth like smudged, half-removed lipstick whenever he leans back to catch his breath, the edges unclear and muddled.

White paint marks Øystein's fingertips, and he must be careful not to mar Pelle's black sweater with them, or else have his ass handed to him. It's difficult to refrain from, though, and he holds Pelle's face rather firmly to his to curb the desire.

It is almost overwhelming. His heavy breath against Øystein's mouth and chin when they part only a few centimeters; the stench of tobacco, which clings to Pelle's room and to his self; the flickering softness in his eyes which betrays the image of darkness his paint is supposed to cast; the feeling of their bodies pressed impossibly close together, Pelle's hands supporting him under his thighs as he holds Øystein pinned to the door. All of it is quite a lot, but it's a welcome assault on his senses.

And on his heart, too, which always feels faint in Pelle's presence in a mushy, disgustingly romantic way.

Romantic is hardly the word for their mood now — much too raw, much too _bruising_. Pelle's force brings Øystein's head against the door with every kiss, pressing him up flat against its surface. Even when he pauses his relentless kisses, Øystein must tilt his head back to allow Pelle room to love on his neck.

He is glad to be held up, his knees feeling weak with how Pelle scrapes his teeth against the skin of his neck. Later on, he will feel the same way when he notices the smears of paint where Pelle's lips touched it. Closer to his collar, he leaves lovebites, running his tongue over the small bruises that form as if to apologize. (Which, of course, he would never do for such a thing.)

Øystein closes his eyes and enjoys the closeness, certain that he looks like a hot mess. He has never been quite as morbidly beautiful in corpse paint as Pelle — even with black and gray mired about his mouth, he is handsome and Øystein wants, perhaps more than ever, to kiss him until his jaw aches and his lips bruise.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post something more substantial than drabbles one day. let's just see if I'm crucified for this, first!


End file.
